In a manner of speaking,

I’ve lost control.

My heart stopped beating

And my body left my soul.

My sanity is madness,

So, I walk the only road

That I know.

It leads into darkness.

So clearly, I see

What’s left for me,

What’s left of me,

And I have to go alone.

But don’t let me go alone.

I pack up a bag for the journey.

It’s filled irrational thoughts

And all of my insecurities.

I’m not suicidal, but

My thoughts are beaming,

Winding down into a sound

That’s all around us screaming. 

My heart stopped beating,

And my body left my soul.

I walk this empty road of wonder

And I blister in the cold. 

My heart stopped beating,

And my body left my soul

Here to

Rot from the ceiling.

I thought that it would hold,

But my anger fuels my dreaming.

And my lust for purpose finds a way

To tangle up my lungs.

Dear Girl

It seems I’ve lost my gentleness.

It walked away with my last kiss,

Said, “Goodbye, old friend.

I’ll see you soon,”

But I haven’t seen it since.

Anger soon encroached it’s home—

A melancholy tantrum known

Only by those affected—

And simply settled in.

Finding out my passiveness

Is something to be keen.

I’ve changed, and those around me

Don’t like what they see.

Friends were lost,

But battles won,

And the war had just begun.

A retriet was never optional,

Nor fighting without sound.

I hit the streets with feet running,

Never made it past the ground.

I’ll make it home again some day.

I’ll find another place

For gentleness to settle in

And brush across your face.

Chasing Safety

“Chasing Safety.”

I’ve used this phrase before, once as an derogatory statement to an old friend, but mostly as a reference in songs and poems to Underoath’s “They’re Always Chasing Safety” album.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’ve realized that I’ve been chasing safety as well. I chase things that make me feel okay, safe–alive. Friends, love, happiness… I chase these things.

And it’s almost as bad to run towards things as it is to run from them. When you finally hit them, they hit you back, and they can knock you down, hard. When you lose them, they’ll knock the air straight out of your lungs and into that little fire in your soul.

I used to dream of falling in love. I understand now that, for me, I need to climb down that ladder one rung at a time.


So, what am I doing now? 

I’m floating. 

And I chose this life. I need to focus on me. I don’t know who I am inside. I’m constantly changing and adapting.


So, what do I want to be?

That’s a loaded question, but I’m ready to blow my brains out on this world’s metaphorical canvas and see who’s willing to pay top dollar.

I want to be a writer. I want to write stories that tear your heart out, write songs that make you yearn for adventure, and write poems that you’d give to your girlfriend.

Words come easily to me, at least in my head. I can’t work well under pressure. I do not have writer’s block; my writer just hates the clock. Good work takes time, and I’m finally ready to take that time.


How do I get there?

Well, I’m working at the Walmart Fucking Super Center. I enjoy it, though. A year ago I said it’d be the last place I’d ever work. If I play my cards right, maybe it will be.

I plan on moving up. I’ve already gotten good standings with a few DMs, as well as supervisors. Hell, Matt hired me on because he saw leadership potential in me. If I can get to management, make good money, and start writing music on my way there, I’ll be able to kickstart myself a music career.

This is my dream. This is my hope. This is my all, and I’m willing to give it.

On a side note, I’ve started becoming friends with Asher again. Today, I hung out with him and Sammie, and I almost cried because I hadn’t been so happy in a long time. I missed them, dearly. Hopefully, I’ll be seeing more of them in the future. 


Here’s to getting shit done, with a smile. I’ll catch you guys on the flippity-dipp. 



Give me novacane

To stop this pain

Inside my brain

And stop this rain

Over my head.


My eyes don’t see

The skies so blue

The inner me

Forgets what’s true

Over my head.


Pacing through false memories

I sing and curse this little roof

Over my head.


Wanting to be

Something more

An open mind

To a shutting door

For what she said


Time flies by

Under setting sun

Forget your name

The things you’ve done

For what she said


Pacing through false memories

I sing and curse the search for proof

For what she said


I write these words

They’re killing me

But I’ll sing them

From the inside out

Until I’m dead


I try to see

The skies again

I’ll look for light

Within my sins

Until I’m dead


Pacing through false memories

I’ll sing and curse this little tune

Until I’m dead


She’s over my head

For what she said

Until I’m dead

Home (Song?)

Just a rock,

Crumbling like sand

Under pressure

From holding every hand

— — —

Broken down,

Waves crash upon my beach

I don’t fight

As I’m pulled back to the sea

— — —

Trepidation was a mystery to me

I falter patience and I find it hard to breathe

The water’s warm,

But I’m drowning in my sleep.

Another hand that I couldn’t seem to reach

— — —

A false prophet with a blazing heart,

A straight face for a bullet guard,

Two feet frozen cold in the snow,

A long walk to find my way back


— — —

Just a bird,

With broken wings; can’t fly

Just a rebel,

With no words to live by. 

— — —

I miss smoke,

And the air inside my lungs.

I miss the feeling

Of your lips on my own

— — —

When will I find what I’m looking for?

A closed mind to an open door…

— — —

Trepidation was a mystery to me

I falter patience and I find it hard to breathe

The water’s warm,

But I’m drowning in my sleep.

Another hand that I couldn’t seem to reach

— — —

A false prophet with a blazing heart,

A straight face for a bullet guard,

Two feet frozen cold in the snow,

A long walk to find my way back…

— — —

Trepidation was a mystery to me

I find patience and finally I can breathe

I lay down and try not to fall asleep

Another hand that I chose not to reach
A false prophet with a blazing heart,

A straight face for a bullet guard,

Two feet frozen cold in the snow,

A long walk to find my way back



I wear

My madness

Like a mask

And ask

The sands

Why my hands


Like leaves.

My trees,

Dear queen,

Are evergreen.

Not even Winter’s wind

Can’t extinguish

My shining

Silver linings

Like diamonds

Hiding under

Every rhyme,

But I,

The writer,

Hold the pen


I find it harder

With every word

To come across like

I’m not absurd.

My mind is mad

Like the hatter,

So I water 

My roots

With my blood

And my tears.

They flow out

From my veins

And into my eyes,

And down through

My fingers

To the pages,

They fly.

When it’s all said

And done,

I load up my gun,

With poetic bullets

And saber-toothed rhyme,

Then douse

The flames of my


Claiming in rashness,

“I swear it’s not sadness,


But madness.”

The Wind

Hoist the sails

For a long night’s journey,

And never forget

To display your worthiness

Or confess

Your sins

To the stars above,

Shining a light

On your embers

Of love.


Loosen your grip

On the steering wheel.

Let your ship fly freely,


The wind on your neck

And the salt of the sea

Burning your wounds

As they heal

And see

The lighthouse

Guiding you home

From the storm

That so long

You’ve been running from.


A ray of sunlight

Hits your eye



I see myself

For the first time.

Through clouds of smoke

You smile in turn.

And underneath, I see you


All of me.

Like clockwork,

We’re geared for glory.

And when we sound,

Everyone will look

And say,

“You’ve made it.”

And I know it.

Because we made it


Let Go

My tank is empty,

So I search for more.

I can’t find it in me,

So I walk the shore.

I take a deep breath

And close my eyes.

I contemplate death

As I watch the sunrise.

“Sadness is easy,”

I say with a smile,

“Depression, anxiety,

They stay for a while.” 

Happiness hurts,

At least when it’s gone.

The darkness, it flirts

With feelings fawn.

In time, you’ll see

What I’ve come to know:

Sometimes you must flee

And learn to let go. 


He saw in her eyes

What he saw in sunrise;

A spark of light, of life anew.

And he saw in her smile

What he saw in the moon;

A reflection of his own light

As it grew!


Oh, to be young and ancient hearted;

To be free and shackled so;

To be a ship on seas uncharted;

To venture to and fro.


She saw in his laugh

A thousand years

Of joy and hope and happy tears.

She saw in his hands

A gentleness;

On his lips, her own:

A kiss.